The strike comes—a hard thud and searing pain lashing through my right cheek. I buck, wailing through the thorny gag.

The corpses are so close, I feel their hot breaths.

Nyxion swings the femur again, the blow harder. A blazing vibration resonates through the flesh, deepening through flesh to muscle.

Tears form. My throat constricts. And I bite down hard, cutting my lips more with the thorns. It’s a sensual pain. Possessive to its core, but I can’t help the heat pulsing between my thighs.

The dark seduction and disturbing elements, from the corpses to the femur he’s using, all conspire. Molten lust fills my veins, igniting my nerve endings. The vines tighten and stretch, spreading me more and forcing my ass up in the air.

Brutal air attacks my privates. All the twisting and writhing succeeds in the thorns cutting my flesh more.

By what power I don’t know, the power only the God of Nightmares can wield, he gives me just enough pain and pleasure to charge my endorphins while the exquisite torture he deals won’t kill me.

My mind makes everything real. The blood drips down my arms, wet and viscous. It’s overwhelming. Wondrously so.

I don’t know if I can take more.

Nyxion,I plead as he strikes my thighs. My bruised and welted bottom screams with pain, but the throb between my legs only grows. His strikes are deep and penetrating as if I can feel them down to my bones. Will he beat me right into the ground until I become one with the corpses?

Out of the corner of my eye, I find those black diamond orbs. They’re brighter, and I’d swear they’re smoldering. He’s unleashing something when he does this. Something darker than the devil I’ve danced with all my life. It’s torture—otherworldly and enthralling. His wings are so hard, their muscle and sinew bulging, membrane vibrating with need.

At the snapping sound so close and the scent of rot curling around me, I flick my head back up—and scream! One corpse has arrived. It twists its neck, the bones protruding while it opens its mouth in a hoarse but hungering wail. It does not attack. Just stares. And twists.

My mouth is dryer than bone dust. But a dizziness invades my vision. And despite the nausea swirling in my stomach, when Nyxion nudges the femur along my clit, a sense of euphoria rushes through me. Like a morphine high, Nyxion kills the pain with one devilish rub of the most hypersensitive part of me.

Once he uses his bony fingers and pinches my triangle piercing, I squeal from the surge of pain. He laughs and toys with the sunflower and skull a moment later, intensifying the pleasure until I’m a hot mess of wanton flesh.

Pulling away before my orgasm surfaces, Nyxion throws off his robe. I pant heavily, tattered breaths escaping as I watch him circle me. God, he’s a force to be reckoned with when he wears his robe. Like the Grim Reaper. A four-piece black suit with a chain vest and a sharp tie. Eldritch symbols mark his vest and long coat. His raging hard boner bulges right through his pants.

Broody villains know just how to dress to make crazy girls like me fall for them.

“Yes, I am a villain, little dreamer,” he says while kneeling before me, gripping my hair, and thrusting my head back to trail his skull along my cheek. I swallow hard as he traces his thumb along my lips. Collecting my blood. “And I will love you like one.”

Without another word, he prods the femur bone between my nether lips until it begins to stretch my opening. He lifts his thumb bone to his mouth and tastes my blood.

His cock throbs, and his arousal fuels mine.

Oh, god! I’m so wet, it goes in with such ease.

“You love the fear,” Nyxion says, his voice deep and gravelly before he chuckles darkly and lowers the femur to rub it along my wet folds. “Such deep, depraved desires run through you. You know how I alone can bring them all to life. You cannot fathom what I will do to you, little killer.” He slides the bone in deeper, and I moan from the inexplicable pressure. Nyxion isbigger, but the bone is coarse. He is soft but also steel. The bone feels different. And I want—I want hi—I can’t do this!

It’s too much, I cry out inside whatever twisted mental bond we have.I’m going to fall. I’m going to crash!

“Yes, you will fall and crash. So spectacularly for me.”

More corpses gather. Nyxion’s wings curve around my body, granting a slit for the corpses to view me. I suck in deep breaths, my lungs working overtime while he fucks my center with the femur. I’m femur-fucked. And it’s such erotic agony, I’m-I’m going to?—

Fisting my hair once again, Nyxion lowers his teeth to my ear and growls, “Come for me, Zenya.”

With one bone-deep stab, I fall over his edge of insanity, muscles squeezing and convulsing around the femur. If orgasm means “little death”, I must be perishing in thousands of little deaths, crashing to earth with molten bliss washing warm waves through me.

Somewhere between my wailing cries, Nyxion removes the femur, strips the vines from my body, and turns me over so I’m flat on my back. With my flesh still in the throes of my climax, Nyxion takes his erection out. It’s the first time I’ve really seen it. Every other time, he’s thrust inside me without showing me.

It’s dark and depraved, a bone much like a femur but thicker. Something is so mesmerizing about how he’s fisting it with his skeletal hand. Veins and hairline fractures give texture.

“Ohmyfuckinggo—”

He slams his bone mouth on my lips to silence me, rams that bone cock all the way to the back of my cunt, and buries himself deep inside me. I scream against his teeth. Except, like last time, like every time, his lips begin to form. Flesh and muscle grow over his beautifully-sculpted face.